Confessions and Admissions
by arinhel.melleide
Summary: 'He lay there holding her for a couple minutes, as she slowly shifted into a more comfortable position. He kept thinking about what had happened so far that night. Gareth needed answers...' *SPOILERS FOR 1.06* What if Gareth hadn't left awkwardly after?


_A/N: This took me a lot longer than I thought it would. I wanted to have it up by Wednesday, alack, I was having motivational issues...But here it is._

 _I do not own, nor shall I ever own CBS's_ BrainDead _, there would be a lot more of Aaron Tveit's face if I did..._

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Laurel collapsed on top of him, falling asleep instantly, and Gareth had the strange feeling that he had been… used?

Don't get him wrong! He was worried about her, that was why he had been willing to do _anything_ with her. Even though he knew she was drunk off her ass.

And despite the awkward wink from her friend…the chocolate and salami…her random demands…it hadn't actually been that bad, like, at all. And _Laurel_ had needed him. So he'd gone with it.

He lay there holding her for a couple minutes, as she slowly shifted into a more comfortable position. He kept thinking about what had happened so far that night.

Gareth needed answers, but he'd let her sleep for now and ask her tomorrow.

He found his pants and his shirt, but didn't bother to buckle or button either, then grabbed his jacket and tie. He opened the sliding doors to a strange sight. The man, who must have been the Gustav who answered Laurel's phone, was on the floor with an over-turned coffee mug and the woman was sitting with her legs up on her chair.

"I—uh." He hadn't thought they'd still be there.

"What's up?" Gustav said nonchalantly as if he was regularly seen like this. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Gareth looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, then turned his gaze to the woman.

"Alright, what the hell is going on?" There was more bite in his tone than intended, but give the guy a break. He'd had a strange night. "And what was actually wrong with Laurel?" He pointed back through her living room to where she was passed out, snoring, on the bed.

"What? What are you talking about? Nothing's going on. Laurel just needed some help, which you have given and now you can go." Gustav said matter-of-factly, still on the floor for some reason. But that was beside the point.

"Did you just call me a prostitute?" It had hit Gareth a little hard—he'd already been feeling used.

"No, he didn't. Stop it Gustav." The woman got up from the table, magazine in hand and smacked Gustav before handing it over. "He isn't an idiot, and I think he deserves to know what's going on. Especially after what he just did for Laurel."

"But, Rochelle," Gustav protested as he carefully slid the magazine under the mug. She gave him a look that seemed very familiar between the two of them. Gareth shook his head, buttoning his shirt.

"First off—Rochelle, is it? I just want to know that Laurel's gonna be okay."

"I won't have a definitive answer until she wakes up, but I'm pretty sure she'll be okay now. Well, except for maybe, a ridiculous hangover." She chuckled to herself, with a small eye-roll.

He let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through his hair, and looked down at the floor. "Okay." Then looked her straight in the eye. "Now, tell me everything."

Gustav stepped into his line of sight, still holding the mug and magazine. "First, let me put this in a petri dish." Gareth furrowed his brow.

 _Put what in a petri dish?_

"And then, I'm gonna need your phone."

Gareth's confused expression deepened and he moved forward a half-step. "What?"

0o0o0

After closing the doors to the living area, there had been a brief scuffle between Gareth and Gustav about the phone. Rochelle, the voice of reason, managed to convince Gareth that it was necessary. If only to get Gustav to stop.

The next half hour or so was spent with Rochelle and Gustav trying to convince Gareth that there were bugs eating peoples' brains and turning them into political extremists. Either that, or making their heads explode. Gustav made weird and seemingly nonsensical statements, with some video evidence. Then Rochelle calmly explained it all, with real facts and science to back it up, though a little grudgingly at times. The only thing they couldn't explain was why it was making people into political extremists.

Oh, and he still wanted to know why he had to have sex with Laurel.

"Anthony, the FBI agent, was infected." Gustav started to explain again, in the way one talks to a five-year-old. Gareth was starting to lose his patience with Gustav a little bit.

"I got that part with the flowers, and how she _got_ infected. I'm asking why I had to have _sex_ with her? Not that I'm really complaining about that part. I just want to know." Rochelle put a hand on Gustav's shoulder to silence him. Once again, Gareth got the feeling that that happened a lot, it looked like a well-practiced gesture.

"Okay, so, you know how the left side of your brain is the logic center. Memorization, facts, and all of that, right?" He nodded, a little unsure. "And the right side controls emotion, creativity, intuition, passion?" He nodded again, even less sure. "The bugs crawled into her left ear, attacking the left part of her brain. So, when we were asking her to think logically about things, recite facts, count fingers, it was just making it hurt worse." She paused looking at him.

"With you so far."

"Good." She smiled reassuringly. "So, what we realized is every time that someone's head exploded, it was because they had been thinking logically, using the left brain. We needed to use the right brain to fight them. Dancing, music, drinking, and other activities that release dopamine."

"That's why you got her wasted and dancing around like a lunatic and practically shoved her at me?"

"And watching porn before you showed up." Gustav interjected, once again, matter-of-factly.

"I don't think he needed to know that, Gustav." Came a sleepy, and very indignant voice from behind him. Gareth stood up and whipped around so fast he almost knocked over his chair.

"Laurel!" An involuntary smile broke across his face at seeing her up. Rochelle was the first to reach her, holding a pen-light up to her ear and eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Laurel looked a little hesitant to answer, glancing at him before looking back at Rochelle.

"We explained everything to him." She reassured.

"He demanded." Gustav blurted.

"Forgive me for wanting to know what the hell was going on." Gareth turned to glare at him. They went back and forth for a bit, until Rochelle shouted.

"Boys, I swear if it doesn't stop, I'm gonna put one of you in timeout!" Rochelle's glare cowed them both, but Gareth couldn't help the smile that came back when he saw Laurel giggle.

"They're gone, Rochelle. I can't feel them anymore." A peaceful smile spread over her face, and Gareth's stomach filled with butterflies.

Rochelle asked her a few more questions before nodding and gathering her stuff. She said good-bye to Laurel, and Gareth almost missed the suggestive look as she said they would catch up tomorrow. Gustav glared at him one last time before being practically dragged out the door by Rochelle.

He and Laurel stood in a slightly awkward silence for a few moments. There was nervous foot shuffling on his part, and she was picking at the hem of her sleepshirt.

He decided to just go for it. "So, bugs are eating peoples' brains?"

"Yup."

"And I was sort of right about Anthony?"

"Sorta, yeah. He was seeing someone else when he asked me out, so…The bugs happened after you had your jealous fit."

"Jealous fit? I didn't have a fit!"

"So you admit you were jealous, then?"

His mouth opened and closed, realizing what he had just, inadvertently, admitted. Another awkward silence permeated the apartment as they were now only about two feet apart. They had stepped closer with each statement, totally unaware.

"So about what just happened…" He trailed off, unsure how to exactly ask the question.

"Can we maybe not talk about it?" Laurel looked so mortified that Gareth almost acquiesced, but it was just too much to not.

"Okay, we don't need to talk about all of it, but there are a couple things that I think we should clarify, since, you know, you're allowed to think now." He gave her a wry grin.

"But what if I still don't want to think?" Her hands trailed up the still open collar of his shirt, lightly brushing his skin along the way. A smile, that Gareth could only call seductive, spread across her face, and he just couldn't resist her. They made it as far as the couch, with him shirtless again, before he pulled away. Her brow furrowed and she tried to pull him back down.

"This isn't how I want this." He found himself blurting it out.

"What do you want, then?" Laurel looked hurt, and she pulled back further into the couch.

"I don't want to feel like I'm being used." He looked her in the eyes. "I want normal, you know." Gareth sat up so he was sitting next to her instead. "I want to talk and joke and take you out to dinner. And pay." He looked at her pointedly. "And then kiss you on your stoop one night and feel awkward calling you the next day. And then talk to my friends, and they would say not to call you because I'll come off as vulnerable. And, of course," he rolled his eyes a little, "I call anyway. And then we're, I don't know, happy and a little awkward on the phone together." He shrugged his shoulders.

A small, genuine smile had slowly broken across Laurel's face as he spoke. "Okay, let's do that." He chuckled, shaking his head just a little bit. "Why can't we do that?" There was that head tilt, that he thought was just too cute.

"Because you were yelling at me to go faster while you were eating chocolate and salami." He said bluntly.

She mouthed an 'Oh,' and her face flushed just a bit. "Can we at least try? Are you busy, say, tonight?"

"Uh, heh, yeah. About that." He chuckled nervously. "See, I, uh, I actually have a date."

Laurel's face fell. "What?"

"Yeah, with this ridiculously pretty and funny," he paused for dramatic effect, "constituent caseworker who works for a democratic senator, who also happens to be her brother." Gareth ended with a smile as she smacked him lightly on the arm.

"God, you're lucky you're cute, you know that?" She shifted so she was fully facing him on the couch.

"Cute? You think I'm cute?" She nodded, giggling. Gareth feigned being scandalized, even as he pulled her into his lap. "Excuse me, miss, I am a grown-ass, ruggedly sexy, man. Cute is not a word I appreciate being called, thank you very much." He huffed in fake annoyance, though his façade became a little strained as Laurel swung a leg around so she was straddling him on the couch.

"Ruggedly sexy, hmm?" She put her hands on his shoulders, and glanced briefly up at the ceiling, looking like she was thinking. He could see the smile on her face though. Or he would have, if she wasn't practically shoving her breasts into his face. "Would you like to prove that?"

"How were you planning on my doing that?" He slowly ran his hands up her legs, playing with the edge of her sleepshirt. She looked down at him with another suggestive smile. "Oh, I'm not sure I'm drunk enough for that."

Laurel smiled mischievously and leaned over him to reach behind the couch. Gareth's will to keep their game going almost broke, but as she settled back down with a half empty bottle of whiskey he smiled. He reached for the bottle, but she pulled it out of his reach and put it to her lips to knock back a swig first. Then she leaned down and kissed him.

She still had a mouthful of whiskey. It burned down his throat and he had to lean back to take a breath after.

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be proving my ruggedness, not you?" His voice was slightly rough.

"Yeah, well, I said you were cute." The smug, yet sexy, grin on her face broke the last of Gareth's restraint.

"Alright, that's it!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped them over on the couch. He kissed her, slipping his hand under her shirt, running all the way up her back, while pressing his hips into hers. Just as she was starting to accept and kiss him back, Gareth pulled off of her with a smug smirk.

"Aw, come on, you can't do that to a girl!"

"Admit that I am, in fact ruggedly sexy, and I will personally carry you over to your bed and continue having my wicked way with you."

"Yes, yes, fine. I admit that you are a ruggedly sexy man, who is only sometimes capable of being cute." He thought about her answer for a moment, giving her couple quick kisses on her lips as he did.

"I will accept this." He nodded and proceeded to bodily lift her off the couch. She latched onto him as he walked over to the bed and they picked up where they left off earlier in the evening.

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 _Hope you like it! Good? Bad? Somewhere in between? Let me know :)_


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